


Four

by Exactly_Who



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Post The End, gay af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 17:50:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6917221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exactly_Who/pseuds/Exactly_Who
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tord got his redemption. Matt got something else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four

A wisp of smoke curled from the end of a neglected cigar, sitting in the makeshift ashtray of a takeout container. The owner watched the sunrise from the balcony, letting the cool morning winds caress his body, half clothed and a little drowsy. Sleep was something that evaded him on the worst of nights like the previous. His lover was still blissfully asleep, curled in the blankets, fully nude from the activities a few hours before. The Norsk smiled, fully in love. Nothing more could make him feel better, nobody else knew their way into his heart. For a year they’d been together; the scars from their first night had faded mostly. They were but a faint reminder of mistakes forgiven.  
He looked back at the sky ahead. It was a painting of reds, yellows, and oranges, tearing at the indigo night that still hung in shreds. It reminded him of Matt a little. A defiant warmth against coolness, sharp contrast to his life. The ginger’s hair was so much like the clouds. So soft, something that was a treat to run his fingers through. Matt was everything he’d dreamed of for so long. Years he’d pined, and his reward was reaped with equal vigour. Soon, he felt a pair of arms wrap around his torso, and a nose nuzzling into the space between his shoulderblades drowsily. He hummed, grinning even more.  
“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” He murmured.  
He got a softly murmured good morning in return, accompanied by a kiss to the back of his neck.  
“Beautiful sunrise, isn’t it?” He whispered.  
“It’s four in the morning.” The other responded.  
“You woke up on your own though.”  
“It was cold without you.”  
Tord chuckled. “Needy as always, eh?”  
The ginger didn’t reply quite instantly, but instead pulled away, before coming to his boyfriend’s front and pulling Tord’s arms around him. Tord gave an assuring squeeze. His thumbs ran over his arms, tracing small circles over the freckled skin. He kissed his lover’s neck gently, lips ghosting over old markings. They were his signature, his stamp on what was his and his alone. Good thing Matt never minded. He’d supplied marks of his own over the months. They were cherished like antiques, valuable to those who had them.  
Matt hummed, stretching against him. The attention was great, though was slightly baited judging he was wearing nothing but boxers; a slightly too-large shirt exposing his neck and shoulders; and socks. However, the gesture was in no way minded. Tord was more than happy to supply an infinity of kisses, cuddles, love bites, and other things of affection.  
“Want me to come back to bed, elskede?” He offered.  
The ginger nodded. “Please.” He answered.  
Gently, he picked Matt up bridal style, taking them to the bed, curling into the thick duvet. They clung to each other, soothed by hearts skipping a beat in love and soft whisperings of affection. Kisses broke in where words couldn’t form, caresses where they couldn’t describe the deepness of feeling. Even after this long, it was like falling in love over and over again, each time their eyes met, their hands touched, their smiles caught the other’s eye.  
If the old legends of soulmates had any truth to them, it was expressed in their souls, intertwined by fate, secured by a red string that untangled in just the right way over time, allowing them to meet. To live with one another. For the jigsaw pieces to fall into place just right. Tord thanked every lucky star, every deity that could exist for letting Matt forgive his sins. If he hadn’t, he might be dead or on the rise once more, destined to fall. Perhaps it was for the best his follies had been just that -- dreams of a homesick, desperate boy who wanted the world in his hands for just a moment.  
All he’d been seeking was attention. For such a long time, he’d been swept under the rug. Forgotten. Reduced to a few basic traits. Breaking away all those years ago had been a wakeup call. He was more than what others defined him as. He was Tord Larson. Putting a name to himself felt like a high he could never replicate.  
His fall from power was the second awakening.  
The third was seeing Matt again in a new light.  
There was four Tord Larsons, and this was his favorite.  
Forgotten. Prideful. Vengeful. Three Tords he left behind for the best model.  
In love. Confident. Awake. Alive.  
And he never wanted to leave.


End file.
